


Lovers and Friends

by BeckyHarvey29



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Jealous Ian Gallagher, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:16:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyHarvey29/pseuds/BeckyHarvey29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are friends with benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers and Friends

As fucked up and dysfunctional as their friendship was over the last nine years, there were three solid facts about Ian and Mickey's friendship. 

One, they had been best friends—practically inseparable—since middle school. They had shared a joint one day while skipping school under the bleachers, and had bonded fairly quickly over the fact that they were both incredibly fucking poor, they both lived in a shitty neighborhood, and they each had uncaring, neglectful pricks for fathers. 

Two, they had gotten drunk one night over a year ago and—after drinking a little too much whiskey and smoking a little too much weed—Ian had leaned in and kissed Mickey without warning. One thing had led to another and they slept together. They had the best sex of their lives that night (…twice). After fighting it for a while, they finally gave in and decided to become fuck buddies, promising each other that it was a strictly no-strings-attached deal, and that they wouldn't let it jeopardize their friendship in any way. If things got weird, they would immediately end it, no questions asked. That was the deal.

The third solid fact about their friendship was that—somewhere along the way—they had both secretly fallen stupidly and crazily in love with each other. 

On one particular night, they both had the night off from work and Ian showed up at Mickey's apartment—holding up a six pack of beer and a pizza—a grin spread across his face. 

After they downed their beer, ate their pizza, and played some video games, they finally dropped the act and fell into their usual late night routine. 

Sometimes, Mickey would grab Ian's hand and tug him a little closer. No words were needed as they crushed their lips together and then, shortly after, Mickey would lead Ian into his bedroom as they hastily undressed each other.

Other times, Ian would take the initiative, grabbing his best friend roughly by the waist and pulling a laughing Mickey onto his lap for a heavy make-out and groping session.

This night in particular, Ian was the one feeling frisky. He placed his beer on the coffee table, and then turned towards his best friend with an arched eyebrow. 

"You wanna?" Mickey asked, leaning forward and placing his own beer down. 

"Yeah…I wanna," Ian rasped, and then leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Mickey's. The kiss was slow, wet, and pliant as Mickey was pressed back into the couch cushions. 

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey choked out as his best friend bit and sucked at his neck. He dug his fingers into red hair and angled his head to the side to give Ian more room. "You feel good." 

Ian licked his way back up to Mickey's mouth and silenced his best friend with a kiss. "Wanna take this to the bedroom?" he asked huskily as he snaked a hand up under Mickey's shirt and brushed his nipple with the pad of his thumb, needing to feel some skin. 

"Yeah…bedroom," Mickey rasped before placing a kiss to Ian's temple; a gesture that would seem a little intimate to other people in a no-strings-attached arrangement, but to them it just came naturally and they didn't think too much about it anymore. 

Ian untangled himself from Mickey, and then held out his hands to help him up. They made their way into the bedroom, and then immediately turned to embrace each other, their mouths coming together in a hungry, impatient kiss. 

They helped each other undress quickly—laughing breathlessly through their kisses as they did so—and then they moved to the bed. Grabbing the lube and condoms from the nightstand, Ian went to work preparing his best friend, all the while kissing him thoroughly, sucking Mickey's tongue and licking into his mouth, both of them addicted to each other's kisses, though they would never admit that out loud. 

Once Mickey was revved up and good to go, Ian eased and rocked into the tight wet heat with a groan, burying his face in the crook of Mickey's neck. "Fuck, Mickey." 

They had begun fucking face to face almost three months ago. They both preferred it this way for reasons they wouldn't admit to each other. Mickey claimed it was only because it was easier on his knees; Ian claimed it was just because the angle felt better.

They were both full of shit, each knowing it was much more than that. 

Mickey wrapped himself around Ian, holding the redhead tighter against him. "Your cock is fucking perfect, man," he moaned hotly against Ian's ear as Ian fucked him slow and deep. 

The sex in the beginning of their arrangement had been rough and demanding. Now, the sex was less hurried, less rough, more passionate. Neither one of them brought up why that was. 

Ian sucked Mickey's bottom lip into his mouth before sliding his tongue against his teeth, smiling into the kiss when he felt Mickey sneer against his nose. 

Mickey slid his hands down Ian's bare back and then grabbed his ass, pulling Ian closer and closer, his dick deliciously pressed between them. "Fuck, I'm close already." 

"Me too," Ian gasped against Mickey's throat. "Shit, Mickey." All it took was Mickey squeezing his ass and clenching around him and Ian fell over the edge, quaking and shuddering against Mickey as his orgasm rippled through him. 

Mickey arched his back, all the while keeping his eyes on Ian's face. He licked his lips and moaned when his best friend reached between them to fist his cock. "Fuck, Ian…fuck, I’m gonna come." He turned his head and captured Ian's mouth in a rough, biting kiss and groaned into Ian's mouth as his orgasm hit. He held onto Ian for dear life and panted into his mouth as his come spurted between them. 

Ian pulled out of Mickey after a few minutes, and then rolled onto his back. He laughed breathlessly towards the ceiling before running a hand down his sweaty face. "Fuck, that was hot." 

Mickey glanced over at Ian, thinking to himself how fucking incredible Ian always looked right after an orgasm. He would never say that out loud though. It was against their rules. No sappy, romantic bullshit allowed.

Ian met Mickey's stare and smiled gingerly before lifting up on an elbow and leaning down to kiss him. He then pulled away in the next instant before the kiss could deepen, and rolled out of bed to grab his boxers from the floor. 

Mickey sat up and reclined back against the headboard as he watched Ian grab for the rest of his clothes. "You leaving already?" he asked. Usually, after a hook up, Ian would leave almost directly afterwards in an attempt at not making things any weirder than they had to be. 

Sometimes, Mickey wished Ian would stay. Maybe more than sometimes.

"Yeah," Ian said as he grabbed for his shirt. "I should go. I have work early in the morning anyway."

Mickey watched as Ian slipped his shirt on, secretly bummed at the loss of eye candy. He thumbed at his lower lip, trying to figure out how to say what he was about to say, "Aye, man, can you sit for a minute? I need to talk to you about something." 

After tugging his jeans on, Ian walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to Mickey when he realized his best friend was about to say something important. "Yeah?"

Ian steeled himself, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to come out of Mickey's mouth. 

What could Mickey have to say that was so important? Was it possible that he…that maybe he…no, that wasn't possible. Ian had to remind himself once again that Mickey was only in this for the sex. Certainly not for a relationship. _Definitely_ not anything serious. But, then again, sometimes the way Mickey looked at him, the way Mickey kissed him…

"I met someone," Mickey said finally. 

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He looked away from his best friend's searching eyes and ran a hand through his mussy hair, trying to ease the dull ache in his chest, and swallowing down the bitter lump in his throat as Mickey's words sunk in. 

"You met someone? The fuck do you mean you met someone? When? Who?" 

"It's this guy from work. He asked me out and I kinda told him yeah. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. We're going out on Friday." 

Ian stood up from the bed suddenly, not wanting to hear anymore, and also not wanting Mickey to know that he was affected by the news in any way. "You don't have to tell me that shit, Mick. You know that. This—what you and I have—isn't serious. You can date whoever you want. Isn't that part of our deal?" 

Mickey watched him, his tongue lightly gliding over his bottom lip. He was silent for a while before asking, "So, you're completely cool with it? It's not going to make shit weird?"

"No," Ian said, perhaps a little too quickly. He resisted the strong urge to pace around the room. His face felt hot and every nerve in his body bristled, and he just hoped that Mickey wouldn't notice. "I mean, I fuck other guys all the time. I just don't tell you about it because it's not important. It doesn't matter." 

"You've been fucking other people?" Mickey said stiffly after a long pause. "What the fuck do you mean you've been fucking other people? Why am I just now finding out about this?"

If Ian didn't know any better, he would say Mickey looked hurt. "I didn't think it was important. You and me, we're just friends who fuck, right? What's it matter who else I fuck?" 

"It matters because…because I'd like to fucking know who the guy I'm fucking is messing around with. Who…who the fuck are these guys? Random assholes you pick up at the club? Do you just fuck anybody? What?" Mickey asked, his tone unsteady.

Ian was pissed now, his emotions running in overdrive. "Fuck you, Mickey. I'm not a fucking whore who fucks anyone with a cock, if that's where you're getting at, asshole." 

Mickey's eyebrows shot up and he ran a shaky hand down his face. "What the fuck ever, man. Fuck whoever you want. I don't give a shit," he snapped as he stood up from the bed and made his way out into the living room.

Ian followed him. "Why the fuck are you so mad anyway? You're going to fuck some other guy on Friday night, aren't you?" 

"Who the fuck knows," Mickey yelled, spinning around to face Ian, his arms flailing. "At least I had the decency to fucking tell you about the guy. And, who knows, maybe this guy will turn into an actual fucking relationship, not just some fucking twink I pick up at a bar and bang!" 

Ian looked as if he had been slapped in the face. He opened his mouth to speak three times before words finally tumbled out. "So, what…you're actually thinking about getting serious with this asshole?" 

"Fuck, I don't know, alright?" Mickey exclaimed. "All I know is I'm sick of just fucking around. Maybe I don't want to just keep fucking my best friend whenever we feel like getting our dicks wet. Maybe I want something that's actually fucking _real!_ " 

Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat and blinked back bitter tears. "Something real, huh," he said monotonously. He then looked away and nodded stiffly. "I'm just gonna go," he mumbled as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and headed for the door.

"Aye, look…Ian," Mickey called out, but he was too late. Ian was already gone.

  


* * *

  


The doors to the elevator slid open and Mickey stepped out first. "I'm right down here at the end of the hall," he said over his shoulder to his date.

As they started their way down the hall, Brett stepped up behind Mickey and placed his hands on his hips, making it quite clear what his intentions were for the night. 

Mickey looked up from fumbling with his keys and stopped dead in his tracks, causing his date to bump into him from behind.

"Mm," Brett moaned as he pressed himself even closer to Mickey and wrapped his arms around him. "I've been waiting for this for too long. Can't wait to get you naked and bury my tongue in that ass."

But Mickey wasn't listening to him. Instead, his eyes were focused on Ian, who was sitting on the floor of the hallway next to Mickey's door, his knees tucked to his chest and his face pressed against his folded arms. 

Brett began kissing at Mickey's neck, and then frowned when Mickey stepped away and turned to face him.

"Sorry, man. Look, I'm going to have to take a rain check."

Brett looked absolutely baffled for a moment before saying, "huh?" 

Mickey ran a hand over his mouth and nodded his head back towards his door. "I have something important I need to take care of tonight. Can I call you in a couple days?" 

Brett looked absolutely pissed off. He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, sure…whatever." 

Mickey watched as Brett turned and headed back towards the elevator. Once the doors slid shut, he turned back around to eye Ian, who hadn't moved an inch, who hadn't even looked up. 

"Christ, Ian," he mumbled before making his way over to him. Only when he was right next to his best friend did he smell the potent stench of whiskey wafting through the air. "Aye," he said gently as he knelt down next to Ian. "Aye. You okay?"

Ian finally lifted his head. His eyes were hooded and bloodshot, his lips parted, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

Mickey sucked his teeth gently. "What the hell are you doing here? It's two o'clock in the morning, man," he asked, lifting up a hand and smoothing hair away from Ian's sweaty forehead. "How much have you had to drink, huh?" 

"Why aren't you on your date?" Ian slurred, as if he hadn't heard a word Mickey said. 

Mickey smirked. "I _was_ on my date. I was about to get _fucked_ by my date, but for some reason your gangly, cock-blocking ass is sleeping outside my door." 

Ian closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall. " ’m sorry I ruined your date."

Mickey stared at Ian, his heart swelling in his chest. He reached out a hand and gently caressed Ian's cheek with his knuckles. "Nah, man, you didn't ruin anything," he mumbled, as his eyes searched Ian's flushed face, wondering if the inebriated redhead had even heard him. "Come on," he said, standing up. "It's late. Let's go inside." 

"Can't," Ian mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Can't move." 

"Oh, you can't move, huh?" Mickey said with a smirk, his eyebrows arching. He then sighed and flattened his back against the wall and slid down to sit next to Ian. "Guess I'm sitting out here with ya then." 

Ian's eyes fluttered open and he turned his head to look at Mickey. His pupils were dilated and his chest rose and fell rapidly. 

The corner of Mickey's lip twitched upwards as he regarded his disheveled, doe-eyed friend. "How much have you had to drink?"

"As much as it took me to get drunk," Ian grumbled.

Mickey could only grin. He leaned in and tapped his forehead against Ian's. "Nice to know you're still a fucking smart ass when you're three sheets to the wind." He closed his eyes and listened to Ian's unsteady breathing for a while before saying, "Haven't heard from you in three days. Where ya been?" 

"Been ’round," Ian slurred. 

"Around, huh." 

Ian pulled away from Mickey and ran an unsteady hand over his face. He let out a shaky exhale. "I messed up, Mick." 

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey asked, deciding to humor his drunken friend. "How'd you mess up, huh?"

Ian was quiet for a long stretch of time as he stared blankly off into space. "I fell in love with you."

The small, amused smile slipped from Mickey's face as Ian's words hung between them in the deafening silence. 

Ian closed his eyes and continued. "I know I wasn't s’posed to. We promised each other we wouldn't, right?" he said, his words broken and shaky. "I couldn't help it though…’m sorry, Mick."

Mickey swallowed the thick lump in his throat and sat unmoving. 

Ian continued, completely unaware that he had just turned his best friend's world upside down. "I know it was only s’posed to be just sex…that it was only supposed to be physical. But how can I not love you, Mickey?" He paused to sigh dramatically. "And then I come here and I ruin your fucking date," he slurred, tossing a dramatic hand in the air and leaning his head back to groan. "The fuck kinda friend am I to ruin your date? And you're wearing cologne, and you look nice, and smell so fuckin’ good and—"

Mickey cupped a hand over Ian's cheek, turning his head gently and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss to silence Ian's rambling. 

Ian slowly turned so that his knees angled over Mickey's lap. He tilted his head and deepened the soft kiss as his hand gripped the front of Mickey's jacket, not ready for him to pull away just yet.

Mickey licked into Ian's mouth and gripped the back of Ian's head to hold him closer. When they finally broke apart for air, he bumped his forehead to Ian's as he tried to catch his breath. 

"I want this, Mickey," Ian muttered, as he dug his face into Mickey's coat. "Wanted you for so fuckin’ long, all of you, not just the sex. There hasn't been anyone else."

Mickey nuzzled his nose in Ian's hair and inhaled him as he took in the words Ian was saying.

"I want you to put cologne on when you go on dates with _me_ , and I wanna stay the night after sex and wake up to you every morning, and I wanna hold your hand in public. I don't want you seeing anyone else or fucking anyone else. I want the fights and the makeup sex, and I wanna take you to Fiona's for family dinners on Sundays and…and I fucked up, didn't I?" Ian pulled away just enough to be able to look into Mickey's eyes. 

Mickey swallowed visibly as he stared back. He reached a hand up and caressed Ian's jawline with his thumb. "You didn't fuck anything up," he finally said throatily, "’cause I want those things too."

Ian pulled back with a frown. "Huh?" 

Mickey burst into laughter at Ian's completely perplexed expression. His laughter then subsided and his face softened. "C’mere," he murmured, pulling Ian in and kissing him sweetly on the mouth. "You wanna do this, huh? You and me?"

Ian nodded against Mickey's forehead. 

Mickey smiled and then tilted his head up to kiss Ian's forehead. "Come on, drunko. Let's go inside." 

"We gonna fuck?" Ian slurred as Mickey helped him to his feet. 

"No, we're not going to fuck. Jesus. Not when you're like this." 

Ian practically pouted as he leaned against Mickey for support as Mickey unlocked his door. 

"Don't give me that face," Mickey said sternly. "We are _not_  fucking tonight, you hear me? We're going to bed, and then we'll fuck in the morning when you're thinking clearly and don't smell like a fucking bar." 

Ian grabbed Mickey's face, squished his cheeks, and then pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. He pulled away with a smack of his lips and then said, "So, does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?"

Mickey grabbed Ian's hips, and then pulled the redhead through the threshold. "’Course you are."

Ian grinned and allowed himself to be pulled inside. He clumsily kicked the door shut behind him, and then allowed his new boyfriend to put him to bed.


End file.
